Deal
by The Qilin
Summary: [Tyki/Lenalee] NSFW. Oneshot. Complete. "There are those who make deals with the Enemy. They're known as brokers. They're looked down upon. The Black Order despises them and hunts them down, though not quite as viciously as they do Akuma. If you make a deal with them, your soul cannot be saved. And what if an Exorcist makes a deal with a Noah? What if that Exorcist is Lenalee?"


_Characters: Tyki/Lenalee_

_Warnings: Sex, dubious consent. This is NOT a Tyki-rapes-Lenalee story. By dubious consent I mean that one member is willing, but only just barely willing given extenuating circumstances. I am not interested in writing a weak Lenalee; she's been so badly portrayed in too many fanfictions, doujinshi, and fanarts, reviled against on tumblr and other sites, and all that I am trying attempt in my writings is do her justice by giving her a bigger part in canon. I understand I am deviating a little from canon, but still I hope that her character remains what it is—a girl who's seen too much in a life and devotes the rest of it to protecting her world._

_Author's Note: The request was for Tyki using his ability of touching whatever he wishes to Lenalee's advantage. This story stretches the timeline; it happens after the Thief-G/Timothy Arc and before the Alma-Kanda Arc._

_POV switch is: Lenalee – Tyki – Lenalee_

* * *

**Deal**

There are those who make deals with the Enemy. They're known as brokers. They're looked down upon. The Black Order despises them and hunts them down, though not quite as viciously as they do Akuma. If you make a deal with them, your soul cannot be saved.

And what if an Exorcist makes a deal with a Noah?

What if that Exorcist is Lenalee Lee?

What if that Noah is Tyki Mikk?

Yes, she made a deal with him. It's a little after Headquarter moved. For a while, things were…uneventful. They went on missions, they came back. Allen and Kanda ran into some difficulties at an orphanage, but they returned.

But Lenalee has the premonition to understand the easy days were over. There are lives at stake, things as risk, and the fiber of what she loves is threatened to be torn asunder. She can't simply think about only killing Akuma and fighting Noah. The Black Order is a cesspool, with its experiments and the like. They have done unspeakable things.

Is it so terrible that she makes a promise with a Noah, with her world in mind?

She doesn't think so.

Their contract is simple: for as many times as she sleeps with him, he'll step away from the battle and keep from killing Exorcists and breaking their Innocence.

Lenalee? Capable of such ideas? Why yes. She knows he is the Noah of Pleasure. She knows about his powers. And there was another rule in their deal: while they are ultimately sleeping together, she controls what he does with her and her body. A list of 'yes' and 'no' follows. She has thought this out and it is her world that she keeps in mind.

Short of dying for it, she'll do anything.

Even sealing this pact with a kiss as purple butterflies land on her.

He even gives her a nickname: Starlet. She's stealing the show, after all. Secretly, quietly, and slowly, by sleeping with the enemy. She's the heroine.

**_-|||:|||-_**

"You look more tired than usual." Tyki strokes her arm lightly, once, with the back of his gloved hand.

"No thanks your family."

He raises an eyebrow. "There are limits as to what you can do."

"Don't remind me."

Lenalee sits ramrod stiff on her chair, head high and hands in her lap. It always began like this. She or he enters the designated room, they attempt a conversation (they always did, for some reason), and then they lay together. She ought to be some highborn lady; his own roots weren't nobility, but being a Noah made him one. She is beautiful, stubborn, and dangerous. She is unashamed of her tears and her love, both for the Order.

And him? Tyki is capable of respecting that. One can't help but respect the lengths she'd go to do this. Tyki acts mostly on whatever his Earl tells him to, sometimes with some actions of his own. Sometimes Road makes him do things. Other times, it's to fuck around with people. Allen Walker is definitely one he makes exceptions for because it's fun. And Lenalee? She wanted this, and he got some fun out of it, too. So why not? It's not hard to pretend he wasn't doing his obligations to the family. It's not as if the Akuma report on him.

So he'll see how far this girl wants to go, because it amuses him..

"Starlet." Her hair is loose, longer than that first time they'd met. He rubs it between his fingertips. "Shall we begin?"

She exhales audible. "Yes." Flatly. Emotions waltz in and out her face until she casts a curtain over them.

He wonders how she'll take it if he binds her and does it rough. Blindfolds her, maybe. Many innumerable things that he only thinks and does not say out loud.

He doesn't want to fight her because it's not worth. When they first met, she was no match. She was scrawny, pale, and fumbling. Not anymore; he can hear the hum of her Innocence and a part of him is whispering to either leave or break it. Rumor has it that she almost singlehandedly took down a Level 4. Fat chance that he wants to waste his time trying to kill her.

This is more fun. Because even though she agrees, he can still make her shudder. Just like now when he bends over her and breathes on her ear.

"Ladies first." Tyki holds out his hand; she rises and ignores it as she walks over to the bed. Only when she sits down does she hold out her hand.

He kisses it with lightest of kisses, just like how one of his butterflies would land. Her fingers twitch imperceptibly; he feels it more than sees it. He is not allowed to kiss her lips or even go remotely near her face; the last time he insisted she'd kicked him. So the only kiss they actually shared was the one she gave him to seal their pact. He remembers it; he tasted the sweetness of her fear and the bitterness of her determination that refused to leave his tongue.

But there's nothing really to stop him from kissing the rest of her body. Let her tremble. Let her temperature rise. Let her heart race. Let her ache, for him. His lips trace her arm; she might be clothed, but to him it's nothing. He touches whatever he wants to; his tongue licks skin and nothing else. It'd certainly be easier if she took of her clothes, but most of the time she does not.

She's being intimate…without being intimate. It's probably her way of distancing herself. Well, whatever she wants. He sucks on her fingers one by one, teeth scraping gently against knuckles and fingernails. In this dim light, he can tell her face is flushed.

He slides a hand up her side and lets his thumb pass through clothing. That finger brushes the underside of her breast, rubbing back and forth until she lowers her head. Her heart beats underneath his finger. It'd be so easy to plunge it in, gouge it out.

But her Innocence is a strange one. Like Allen's, it just might backfire on him. Fucking annoying Innocence. So instead he leaves marks with his nails, little pinches, until she sharply tells him to quit teasing her.

"But that's my nature."

"You're not the Noah of Teasing. You're the Noah of Pleasure."

"Starlet, they go hand in hand."

"Then do other things with your hands."

"Being churlish hardly suits you."

"I'm stating what I want, Tyki Mikk."

"Sure, sure." He digs a little, one last time, before pushing her down and letting his hands roam over her torso and breasts. She turns her head, not looking at him.

That was another condition—they would not look each other in the eyes. Any eye contact would instantly be broken and redirected. She's fussy, he thinks, as he pushes her jacket and shirt up just slightly so that he could at least see more of her skin. It contrasted nicely with his (though it'd be better improved with more red) and he brushes his palm over her stomach. Her skirt has fallen to reveal her thighs; the trace of shorts peeks out from underneath. He licks the expanse of skin there and she suddenly digs her hands into his hair.

Amused, he looks up. "What?"

"You're taking too long."

"Patience is a virtue."

"I don't have all night."

"Oh, very well." If she wants it fast…he pushes her skirt up and without warning, slips his tongue against her groin. Through layers of fabric, he finds where it is that she is most sensitive and beings lapping. Only then does she actually make soft, stifled sounds.

That's what he likes to hear.

**_-|||:|||-_**

She'd close her eyes, but wariness prevails, and so she looks. His nose, bumping against her, his tongue, doing unspeakable things. It all aches fiercely in a way that wants her to buck her hips. She presses a hand to her chest, squeezing. Why is he so damn good at this. Would she prefer it better if it didn't feel good? She might be the one to initiate this, but he kept it going. There is no love for him, none at all. This was purely for a greater cause.

And it was less risky than dying. Right? Better than seeing Kanda bleed, swear, and then heal even as he looks more cracked with every mission. Better than Allen's tears and screams and how he walks a dangerous line. Better than seeing Lavi snap, with deadened eyes and cold expression. She could take this.

The pleasure was a side thing. She didn't come here to feel good. Still, as his hands steal up and massage her breasts, her head falls back and she raggedly moans. No words, only sounds.

He's dragging her, slowly, to an edge. His tongue probes and his lips touch all the right areas. His fingers go through her clothing and they tease at her nipples until it all comes together and she's afraid of her heart bursting, at the rate it beats. From experience she knows it won't, yet the thought of it still lingers in her mind. Her fingers hurt from balling into fists and her lips are sore from biting. And then he stops, and shifts away. Dampness clings to her, but she has not reached climax yet.

His clothing rustles; she watches as he pulls off his shirt, revealing a myriad of scars, courtesy of Allen. If it were another person, she'd pity him, but she remembers how it had all backfired and how things had gone down in the Ark. He sheds his belt, unzips and pushes everything down to his knees and stops there.

"The second part of this deal," he says as he climbs back on the bed, a smirk playing at his lips.

"You needn't remind me." This is what unnerves her most and she tries to best not to let it show. She turns over and rests her face against her arms.

Tyki lets out a disappointed sound. "I won't get to see your pretty features like this."

"You don't need to see them."

"Have it your way, starlet." Hands hips her hips, and she bites down just as he enters her. It no longer hurts, but she still has to adjust to his girth. When he grunts and sheathes himself nearly all the way in, she has to force herself not to tear away and punch him.

It's easier when he moves; he brushes against something deep inside her that is better than before and she bites down on the bedsheets. Gradually he finds the rhythm and they move together.

She says nothing when his hands find her again to touch her chest. They slide over her skin; for one brief instant she wonders what it'd be like if she were naked, but she stamps out the thought.

This man is not her lover. He is a deal, nothing more.

"I've slept with plenty of girls and women. Some ask me to join them, others I coerce. Some live, others die." He's quite talkative today, isn't it. "But you're the first one to ask me for something like this. Should I be impressed by now?"

"You can be whatever you want," she grounds out, hating how unnatural her voice sounds now.

"Lenalee Lee, you're a strange one."

"So?"

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

The question catches her off balance and he thrusts in the right motion that leaves her gasping. She catches her breath and grits her teeth.

"That's none of your business."

"What would your precious Order think? What would your friends think?" How does he manage to keep his tone of voice this level? "What are you getting out of this?"

"Whatever I promised with you."

"You'll ruin yourself."

"I don't care." She keeps her emotions still blanketed; emotional distancing took time. She learned to shut herself down, close off things. She understands she doesn't take very good care of herself. The only time she can't keep things in is when her friends are dying. Only then does she break. But she refuses to break for herself. Herself, she has shamed before when she almost killed herself. She promised herself she'd never do that again.

So this is, according to her, not as bad as attempting suicide. It scrapes and stabs inward but she is pushing it away all the same. Painful pleasure; as he rubs the area where they meet and she buries her face against the mattress to smother her voice. Only when he finally drags her down the edge does she cry out and shake, pressing against his body. She swallows heavily and shreds the sheets with her fingers.

And then it's over when his breathing hitches and he jerks hard against her once, twice, and then stops. His hand strokes her cheek one last time, before he pulls away.

She says nothing to him as she rolls over and sits up; she feels sticky and tired, and a little cold now that the heat in her body fades. Her fingers rake through her hair, and then smooth her clothing to make herself presentable.

"A word of advice."

"I don't take advice from Noah," she responds promptly. "But talk." It's not as if he'll listen if she tells him to shut up.

It takes her willpower not to jump when he grips her chin and he breaks a rule by looking into her eyes. Yellow, glowing, and catlike. She narrows her own.

"This agreement won't last forever; someone will find us out. Maybe one of mine. Maybe one of yours. But before that—" He lets go of her chin and stands. "I've been around enough butterflies to know they prefer sunlight. You linger to long in the dark, and your beauty will fade."

"Why are you comparing me to an insect?"

"That was a compliment. I happen to _like_ butterflies." As if to make a point, he waves a hand and a cloud of them flutters all around him. "But while they're beautiful and some of them will drink blood, not all of them do. Some of them are more fragile. Their wings shred. They break limbs. And sometimes their own weight works against them."

Her throat closes.

Tyki blows a kiss at her as he melts into shadows. "I suggest you think a little more about this. There are no qualms if I'm caught, but captive butterflies die quickly."

And then he's gone. She makes sure he is by listening and waiting until the uneasiness she has around him lessens and her heart slows.

Then she kicks a chair across the room and listens to it break. "Don't you dare patronize me, Tyki Mikk," she breathes out, her hands tightening into fists. "I _know_ what I'm doing."

And she _knows_ the consequences of being found out. But they can't kill her. Komui holds enough sway and she knows (or is it a hope) that every Exorcists and ever Finder will vouch for her.

She will not think of being locked up.

She will not remember those days.

As she steps up to the window to leave, to return to her normal life, a Tease butterfly flits near her face. Lenalee studies it for a moment, and remembers how Allen stabbed one through when it had landed on her. It twitched, in the throes of death. _"I may end up killing you if try to lay another hand on my friends,"_ he had said, before attacking.

This one would twitch and crunch if she crushed or stamped it. But she doesn't. Instead, she lets it settle on her hand before it starts looking hungry and then she flings it out to let the wind catch it.

Allen does things his way, and she'll do it her way. If Allen can get away with doing what he believes he's right, so can she. All it takes a little courage and shutting out the voices that said otherwise.

But when she takes flight and bursts of green trail behind her, tears rise in her eyes.

Her happiness was another price, the one price that might threaten to tear down.

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you for reading._


End file.
